


Charter Fishing

by Gyhl



Category: Shawshank Redemption - All Media Types
Genre: Community: fandomweekly, Gen, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 13:21:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6080901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gyhl/pseuds/Gyhl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after getting to Mexico, Red is starting to relax a little into his freedom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charter Fishing

The waves were rolling in, cool water dousing the warm sand under my bare feet. I had the chair just at the tide's edge, a towel over the back of it so my bare back wouldn't find stray splinters. It was a wooden chair covered in peeling blue paint. He hadn't gotten around to fixing it up yet, and that was fine by me.

It was ten and I'd been up for a few hours already. Probably you'd think it was early morning; I can't sleep for shit past 8 am. I heard his footfalls on the sand behind me. Soft, strolling footfalls. Been twenty years and that man still fucking strolls. For the first time since I been here, I didn't jump at the sound of someone coming up behind me.

Andy said my name in that soft way of his and I knew when I looked over there'd be a beer in his hand for me. Andy and me, we have brunch like civilized people. Only our brunch is a couple bottles of suds. Today, he had a folded up newspaper with the beer, although he'd taken the liberty of removing the finance section. And that was fine by me. Let the banker read that shit for all I care.

"Uruguay qualified for the World Cup," he said as I looked over the front page. Been here two years and I still can't read Spanish for shit.

I didn't give a rat's ass about soccer, although we call it 'fútbol' here, but I nodded like I did and let him talk about it. I hadn't given a fuck about chess when Andy started talking about it. Of course, it wasn't only that he'd gotten me into chess. Or that I was living with him and helping him with his hotel project. Or that I'd broken my parole to join him here.

Well, maybe it was all of that. Don't get me wrong. I'm not a homosexual, neither's Andy. He's my family, and I'd like to think I'm his. Not like we have anyone else who isn't in prison in another country.

"You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?" he asked with a laugh.

I shrugged and took a drink of the beer he'd brought me. "No, guess I haven't."

He laughed again and set his empty bottle in the sand. "I've got a couple guests to take out fishing in an hour. Care to join us?"

I watched the waves over top of the beer, the ocean with no memory. Have you ever been out on the ocean before? Surrounded by nothing but all that blue water? It's something I can't even begin to put into words.

"Yeah," I said after a moment. "A bit of fishing with tourists sounds fine."


End file.
